Heirs(working title)- Prologue

The pull was stronger now, that constant urging of her internal compass had grown from a slight irritation to an almost physical command. Kizzy grit her teeth and shoved trembling hands deep into her pockets. The tour guide droned on, expounding upon the history of the catacombs. Letting her steps get slower and slower, Kizzy drifted to the back of the group. A chattering English couple hurried past, not sparing a glance in her direction.

A metal door appeared in an opening between piles of stacked femurs. Kizzy nearly fell towards it, but managed to stoop to the ground to retie her shoe instead. She glanced up. There was a sharp corner just ahead- most of her tour group was already around it. Ripping off the caution taped criss-crossing the edges, she tested the doorknob. Unlocked. Just as she knew it would be. Slipping into the dark passageway, Kizzy ignored all of her senses save the one that told her to go forward. Breaking into a jog, she ran towards the unknown something that beckoned her. Mundane worries like police, poisonous underground gases, tripping and injuring herself, did not cross her mind. The serendipity was upon her.

The passageway took her to what she sensed was a great empty space. Pulling out a small flashlight, she flicked it on and examined her surroundings even though she navigated as easily as if it was full daylight, each foot placed confidently on even ground. She was in an old limestone quarry, the scarred rocks draped in shadows. It was to one of those shadows that she drawn. At first just another outcropping, a tunnel in the rock was revealed in the beam of Kizzy's flashlight. It was about five feet tall and barely wide enough for one person. Kizzy had to stoop to walk through it, which was the only reason she did not trip over the girl.

She was sprawled on her side across the length of the tunnel, her feet closest to Kizzy and her head in the shadows. The feeling of serendipity was gone.

"Ugh. Always with the bodies and the dragging and the dirt, ain't ya?" She grumbled to herself. "Never pirate treasure, or just a dropped diamond necklace or something shiny." In an attempt to think of a better way of extracting the girl from the tunnel, she shined the light at the girl's head. Dark, dust-tangled hair concealed her face. The faint up and down of her chest was all there was to show that she still lived.

"Hey," Kizzy said, then kicked her gently. "Hey! Wake up!" Despite some more rough shaking, the girl did not move. To just pique her curiosity even more, there was a yellowed messenger bag pillowing the girl's head. It was lumpy and Kizzy's fingers itched to open it and see what was inside.

"I didn't want to do this but..." She maneuvered herself in the tunnel so she was standing right over the girl. To pick her up, Kizzy had to stuff her flashlight back into her pocket. Grabbing the girl under her arms, Kizzy slowly backed out of the tunnel. Once out, she gently lowered the girl onto the ground, then ran back inside the tunnel to see what was in the bag. For this she turned the flashlight on, hoping to see...

"Yes!"

Something glittered in the light. Something gold. The bag got unceremoniously dumped on the ground and its contents pawed through. Several old bracelets, necklaces, and rings. All real gold and silver, or plated in it. Jewels winked in the dim light as possibilities filled Kizzy's mind. Rent for a couple months, the day-to-day living expenses, cash to make up for what she lost going on this trip, clothes for Saida...

But what about the girl? Jamie's voice in her head reminded her. Kizzy sighed. He was right. The girl was what her serendipity had called her to, not the jewelry. As she shoved the jewelry back into the bag, Kizzy noticed a tag sewn onto the inside of the flap. It read: Property of Simone Roux. She looked around for another, possibly with an address or something, but found nothing. After the jewelry was packed back in, Kizzy went back to Simone. By the dim light of the flashlight, Kizzy took a good look at her. Her skin was very pale, and stretched over a slightly gaunt heart-shaped face. She pulled up one of the eyelids and waved her flashlight back and forth, to make sure the pupils dialated. They did, and she moved on to check the reflexes, poking certain pressure points. Everything was normal. Simone was alive and relatively healthy-seeming, if a bit underfed. She was just... asleep.

Kizzy was not any kind of fashion expert, but she was sure the style of clothes Simone wore had not been popular for several decades. A knee-length blue wool skirt and a white blouse with a Peter-Pan collar hung loosely on her form, partially hidden by a long black coat. Everything was worn and covered in a layer of dust and dirt. A pair of scuffed saddle shoes too big for her feet were practically falling apart.

"Oh, Simone," Kizzy murmured. It was obvious, there were only two possibilities. Either Simone was an Heir who had, somehow, accidentally put herself for who knew how long. Kizzy racked her brain for any sleep or night gods. There was that Greek one, Morpheus? No, Hypnos. She did have some olive coloring, and part of France bordered the Mediterranean, so it was not a stretch. Or Simone was the victim of an Heir. Either way, neither Kizzy nor any of her associates had the particular owner needed to deal with this. Bit she knew who did. The only trick would be getting Simone there.

***

A few bribed cataphiles and one phone call home later, Kizzy was checked into a seedy hotel under an assumed name. She had managed to lug Simone into the room with the simple explanation that her "friend" was prone to fainting spells. Not that the concierge seemed like one to ask questions. In her room, she had dumped Simone on the bed and the jewels on the floor. They sat in the back of her mind like an annoying loose tooth, something to worry and mess with until it fell out. Or in this case, until she pawned them. Kizzy did not do free international rescues. Just as she started doing handstands in attempt to calm herself down, the phone rang. She scrambled to grab it.

"Bonjour?" she said.

"I sent it. Tracking her iPhone, Tania'll get there in about three hours," Jamie replied briskly.

Kizzy smiled, "Thanks for the early warning babe."

"No problem. Buy me some heart-shaped chocolates from the City of Love and we'll call it even," he said.

"That's so-"

"Wonderful? Yes, I know. See you soon," Jamie hung up before she could get in another word.

With a fond shake of her head, Kizzy put the phone back. It was time to prepare for the show.

***

Tania was very confused when her cab pulled up in front of the Hotel du Soleil in Paris. It was painted a sickly yellow, and looked like there would be cockroaches in the bathroom and fleas in the bed. It did not seem like the kind of place meticulous, clean Olga would stay. She thought back to the email she had received that morning.

Dear Tania,

I urgently need you to come to Paris. We have new information about your mother and brother that can only be discussed face-to-face. I'm staying in Room 105B at the Hotel du Soleil, 387 Rue Curie, Paris. Come right up.

Love,

Olga

Even if the words "mother and brother" had not stopped her cold, Tania would have known it was urgent from the fact that Olga wrote "dear" and "love". The steely older woman usually never showed more emotion than was strictly necessary. And since Tania could not imagine any news worse than what she had received eight years ago, she had bitterly fought a rising hope all the way from her country home.

"Is this the right place?" asked the elderly cab driver, his voice slightly tinged with impatience.

Tania realized she had been staring, and shook herself out of her reverie.

"Yes it is, s'il vous plait," she replied.

After paying the cabbie, Tania nervously entered the hotel lobby.

She went over to the concierge and said, "Hello, my friend is staying up in Room 105B. Could you call her room and let her know I'm here?"

He did not even bother to glance up when he replied, "She left a note. You can go right up."

"Thank you."

It took only one glance at the ancient elevator for Tania to decide that she would rather take the stairs. She found the room easily and knocked. No one answered.

"Olga? It's me, Tania."

No reply. She knocked again, harder, then waited. No one answered. The door handle was one of the lock and key type, so she tried it. It was unlocked.

"Olga, it's Tania," she called out as she opened it slowly.

Immediately her eyes were drawn to the girl on the bed. Tania gasped and rushed over to her. She was in her late teens and wore old-fashioned clothing like that of a black-and-white movie covered in dirt. Her eyes were closed and her chest went up and down faintly. Placing a hand on the girl's forehead, Tania was immediately drawn in by deep tones of music, soothing and commanding. They made her feel drowsier than she had in years. She yanked her hand away before the sound convinced her to fall asleep next to the girl. This girl was an Heir, and a powerful one at that. Olga had not sent the email, that was for sure. Fear suddenly spiked through her as she realized that she had been lured to the hotel. In a sudden panic Tania hefted up her bag, ready to beat any assailants waiting to jump out at her. She checked under the bed, in the wardrobe and behind the curtains. Satisfied that no one was waiting with an axe, Tania returned her attention to the girl on the bed.

Her hands were folded over here stomach, and Tania noticed something white sticking out underneath them. Hesitantly she pulled out a piece of folded computer paper. Opening it revealed a typed message. Written in English, no less.

Sorry about the email (it said), but I figured that was the only way to get your attention. This is Simone Roux, possibly a descendant of Hypnos. Wake her up and take care of her, please. I'm not sure what she went through, but whatever it was must have sucked.

-F

Tania felt annoyed. She was played and used and she fell for it. But she had a responsibility to any Heir, so Tania placed her hand on Simone's forehead. Her impatience caused her to brutally cut through the enchanted slumber like a knife. Simone shot upright and let out a strangled cry. Eyes wide, she looked around frantically.

"Where am I?" she demanded. "Who are you?" her voice cracked on the last word.

"It's okay, I don't want to hurt you. My name is Tania. I just want to help. It's okay," Tania spoke in a soothing voice and held her open hands in front of her, treating the girl like she was a wild animal likely to be scared away by a sudden moment.

Scooted to the edge of the bed farthest away from Tania, Simone just seemed to grow more scared and confused. "Get away from me," her voice quavered.

"It's okay, I-"

Simone leapt off the bed and tried to make a run for the door. Legs unused for decades betrayed her, and she fell to the floor.

Crouching on the floor next to Simone, Tania offered her an hand.

***

In the next room over, Kizzy watched the camera feed of Tania helping Simone back to the bed. As the woman comforted the girl, Kizzy bit her lip uncertainly. But she shook her head and snapped her laptop closed.